Come Commala
by L Moonshade
Summary: ABANDONED Roland's katet gains another member.
1. Prologue: ka ra

The usual stuff applies; I don't own nothin' but Polly White (Kara). Everything else belongs to Stephen King, and that's fine; he's done a much better job with Roland and his crew than I would have. I'm just borrowing his characters, and will return them when I'm done. A/N: As always, reviews are welcome. Flames will be used to make a nice bonfire for singing around, toasting marshmallows, and cooking hot dogs. Also, if anyone has an idea as to what _ka-ra_ means, feel free to enlighten me. I'm not certain, yet, and that'll help me define the relationship between her and Roland, especially. Now, without further ado, on with the story. ****

Prologue: _Ka-ra_

Polly White had grown up reading. She read every chance she got, including here, on the subway. Now, she was reading her favorite, Stephen King. She'd just started Wolves of the Calla, and was it really just coincidence that Roland's _ka-tet_ was having so many encounters with the number nineteen, which just happened to be her age?

In fact, there were a number of coincidences that tied her life to the books. She knew the lot where Jake had seen the rose and, though it wasn't vacant in this _when_ and _where_, she thought she'd heard the singing. She now lived in the area where Odetta—now Susannah—had grown up. But, the biggest coincidence of all was her obsession with doors. It was the same thing Jake had experienced before going to Mid-World. Every door she saw, she felt would take her to Roland and his _ka-tet_. Just like Jake, she felt she must be going mad.

She put the book into her pack as the subway slowed. Her stop, now; she was going to spend the day at the library, researching Ancient Egypt for a school project. She got off and made her way to the surface, then to the library. As always, she paused to look at the notice board, satisfying her curiosity. What she saw stopped her heart cold. It was hung in the middle of the board, large and impossible to miss. It was a lost pet poster, but what was on it…

LOST! PARROT, SCAR OVER LEFT EYE  
ANSWERS TO THE NAME OF POLLY  
SHE IS CONTRARY AND DOESN'T TALK MUCH  
BUT WE LOVE HER ANYWAY.  
GENEROUS REWARD OFFERED

DIAL 716, WAIT FOR BEEP, GIVE YOUR NUMBER  
THANK YOU FOR YOUR HELP

Polly's hand slowly went to her left eye and the scar that crossed it, souvenir of a car accident. Another story by Stephen King crossed her mind, Low Men in Yellow Coats, and the Beam breaker the low men were searching for, Ted Brautigan. In that story there had been signs of their coming, shoes hanging from telephone lines, comets and stars drawn around hopscotch boards, and hadn't she seen those around, lately? Oh, yes, friends and neighbors, she had, indeed. Now, the last touch, the lost pet sign. In the story, the posters had compared Ted to a dog, but Polly wasn't surprised they'd chosen a bird for her. Not with her nose, or her name.

She let out a laugh that was more like a sob and ripped the poster down. She was a regular, but had been on vacation with her folks and hadn't been in a week. She was known here, and this poster wouldn't fool everyone (if it fooled anyone) with its talk of birds and "we love her, anyway." Had someone called them? Were the low men hot on her tail?

She heard chimes, so beautiful they brought tears to her eyes, hurt her head, and she turned. There was a long luxury car pulling up in front, and it looked off, somehow. It was a nice looking vehicle, and, normally Polly would have admired it. But there was an essential _wrongness _to it, something she couldn't explain, but could feel. The car paused and three people got out, men in long, yellow coats and hats pulled so low the brims covered their eyes.

"No," Polly whispered. "They're just stories, they're not true."

__

Then, why are you looking for the door that will bring you to me? a voice whispered in her mind. It was a male voice, and one she'd never heard, but she knew it nonetheless. It was Roland, and it acted as a dash of cold water, the shock of which brought her back to herself. Suddenly she knew, the door was here, somewhere. She just had to find it before the low men found her.

Polly rushed into the library. Her instinct wanted her to go one way, so she took Wolves of the Calla out of her bag and set it on a table in the other direction.

__

Hurry! Roland's voice called.

She moved farther down past where she'd left the book and dropped a piece of paper on the floor, then left a pencil farther down. Only then did she turn and start running towards where she thought the door was.

Her decoys were well thought out, the low men did, indeed, know they were hers. But, they knew where she was going, they felt the door, too, and it was this that they had been sent to stop. By the Crimson King's decree, Polly White was not to reach the Gunslinger. The fact that she could work as a breaker was an added bonus.

Polly knew they were following her and she ran through the library, sobbing with fear. She looked down row after row, hoping to see the door soon, all the while hearing the chimes get louder and louder as the low men neared. Finally, she found the right row, the door at the end. She ran into the stacks, grabbed the doorknob and turned. It didn't budge and she let out a cry of despair.

"Roland!" she sobbed, the chimes screaming in her brain, a cold hand, as _wrong_ as the car, grabbing her arm. The low man pulled, and she was being drawn inexorably away from the door.

Suddenly the door opened. Polly shifted her grip to the doorjamb. The door opened to a vertical view, and she could see people looking down at her. She only really saw one, though, tall and lanky with dark hair and washed-out blue eyes that still held great strength.

"Roland!" she called, and his strong hand gripped her wrist.


	2. Prologue: ka tet

****

Prologue: _Ka-tet_

Roland Deschain, no longer the last gunslinger, woke with a start. He'd been dreaming of her, again; the girl whose name he didn't know, not ten years older than Jake but rapidly heading towards womanhood. She lived in a city Roland recognized as New York, though he somehow thought this wasn't the city of Jake, Susannah, or Eddie's when. Or where.

Regardless, she was in trouble. The low men (that was her thought, not his, but Roland understood the concept, knew as well as she did that they worked for the Crimson King) were chasing her, and she was searching for the doorway in her when and where, she would need to come through if she were not to be caught…

Roland had a hard thought. "Eddie!" he shouted. "The key!"

They were _ka-tet_, and Eddie had woken the moment the cold dread had gripped Roland's heart. He was already looking through his things for the key he'd whittled to get Jake through.

Jake and Susannah had woken, also. The boy grabbed a fire-hardened stick and began drawing a door on the ground. Susannah took another and drew a key hole, paused, then drew a second one before drawing a doorknob.

Jake finished with the door. "Roland, I don't know how to label the door!" he yelled, digging through his own pack.

Roland took up the stick and paused, considering.

"Hurry, Roland, she's in trouble," Eddie said, pressing his wooden key into Roland's hand.

Jake put his metal key, the mate to Eddie's, into the same hand. "Roland?" he asked nervously.

"Yes," the gunslinger said to himself. "Yes, that is it." Roland scratched a word into the ground. His _ka-tet_ saw an odd look on his face, both hope and fear.

__

Ka-ra, was what Roland wrote in the letters of the High Speech, and the door took form and shape. Roland put the keys in the locks and turned them, heart fluttering at the double click. He grasped the doorknob and turned it, opening the door with the help of Eddie and Jake.

On the other side of the door was a corridor formed by high shelves filled with books. Normally, Roland would have stood motionless with awe at so much valuable paper, but he only had eyes for the woman and her plight. She was gripping the doorjamb, now that the door was open, trying to rip herself away from the man—the thing—that was grabbing her.

Without thought, Jake drew his gun and fired. The bullet flew true and hit the low man in the forehead, causing him to let go. The woman surged forward and Roland reached down, grabbing her wrist and pulling her up through the door in the ground.

"Close it," Susannah shouted. "For your father's sake, close the door!"

Jake and Eddie did, then pulled the keys out of the keyholes. The door became nothing but chicken-scratches on the ground, and the three of them heaved sighs of relief.

"Well met…" Eddie began, looking towards the woman, stopping when he saw her and Roland. She had her face buried in the gunslinger's chest, sobbing, while Roland held her close, his mouth by her ear, talking softly to her and stroking her hair.

"Leave 'em, sugar," Susannah said gently, taking Eddie's hand. "They're not complete strangers to each other."

"Let's make some food," Jake said. "_Ka-ra_ will be hungry after that."

Eddie nodded and they moved off towards the fire.

It took a moment for Polly to hear Roland's voice, to feel him holding her, stroking her hair. It took another moment for her to stop crying, but she finally did.

"_Ka-ra_, are you all right?" he breathed. "Are you well?"

Polly took another deep breath and let it out, pleased to find it wasn't shaky. She lifted her head to look at him. "I'm fine, Roland. Just scared."

"Aye, and with good reason," he said, studying her. No one would call her beautiful, he thought. Her long black hair and deep blue eyes were pretty enough, but she had a few too many muscles, her face was perhaps a bit too narrow, her nose maybe too long and sharp. The scar marring her left eye didn't help, either.

"We are well met, aren't we?" she asked.

Roland detected a hint of worry and smiled, quick to dispel it. "Yes, _Ka-ra_. We are very well met, indeed."

She cocked her head. Roland wondered if he should let her go, but he didn't want to, and she didn't seem to want to leave the circle of his arms just yet.

"You've called me that twice, now. Why?"

"It fits," he said simply. "What _should_ I call you?"

"I started out as Polly White. But, I like Kara better."

Roland smiled again. "Then, _Ka-ra_ you will be. Come. I think the others are making food."

Polly, now Kara, nodded. "That sounds good. I'm starving." She reluctantly stepped out of the circle of Roland's arms and bent to get the pack that had dropped off her shoulder, frowning as she lifted it.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. It's heavier than it was in my _when_." She opened it, her face registering shock and surprise as she saw what was in it.

"What is it?"

"These weren't here before," she said, pulling out a pair of pistols. They looked like Jake's, but the grips were ivory, inlaid with roses of deep red cherry wood. The pistols rested in holsters that hung from a belt.

"The Manni have stories of gifts received as one passes through a door. Those are fine pistols, indeed. Can you use them?"

"No." Kara looked back up at Roland and smiled. It lit her face, and Roland saw that she was, indeed, beautiful. "Or, should I say, not yet?"

Roland answered with a smile of his own. "I will teach you the way of the gunslinger, just as I taught the rest of our _ka-tet_."

"Our _ka-tet_," Kara whispered as they moved towards the fire.

Those at the fire—Susannah, Eddie, Jake, and the bumbler Oy—looked up at her. Eddie smiled broadly.

"Hile and well met, Sai…"

"_Ka-ra_," Roland said. "Eddie and Susannah Dean and Jake Chambers, all of New York."

"Oy!" the bumbler said. "Id-orld."

They all laughed. "Hile, sai Kara," Jake said.

Kara smiled. "Hile. May I not be Kara to you?"

They glanced at each other—how did she know what to say?—then grinned.

"Of course, sugar," Susannah said. "Sit and eat and tell your story, if it do please ya."

"It please me fine," Kara said, sitting next to Jake, Roland taking a place on her other side. She took the gunslinger burrito Eddie offered her and took a couple of bites.

"Mmm, good. As for me, I come from a New York that is different from your own _whens_. I know this, because of an author named Stephen King."

The others listened intently as she told her story, finding it hard to believe, but harder to disbelieve as she gave proof of her knowledge.

"There are other worlds than these," Roland said. "You told me that, Jake."

"I believed it then, but this…Someone writing our lives as stories…"

Eddie grinned. "Wouldn't it be great to meet him?"

"Show him he writes true, and thankee-sai," Kara laughed. "I'm not sure it would come as a great shock to him, though."

"He has written to the end of our story, you say?" Roland asked.

Kara nodded. "Aye."

"Yet, your knowledge of it ends here."

"Aye to that, as well. I had just started the fifth story. I hadn't read much, just enough to know…" She paused.

Eddie frowned. "To know what?"

"D'ye ken nineteen?"

All but Roland glanced at each other.

"We've seen a bit of that, lately," Eddie said slowly.

"I'm nineteen. For about a month, now. Ever since September nineteenth."

"Nine-nineteen," Jake said.

"It adds up to nineteen, too," Kara said, "as does my birth year. Nineteen-ninety. Believe me, since starting that book, I've done the math."

"More nineteen. Still think it's nothing, Roland?"

Roland said nothing, but slowly shook his head, eyes never leaving Kara.

"Ineteen," Oy said, sniffing Kara's leg. She started scratching his head and he lifted his muzzle to look at her. "Ineteen!" he said with finality then flopped down at her side, his chin resting on her leg.

"_Ka_," Jake said.

"_Ka_," Kara agreed.

"_Ka ka_," Eddie muttered with a grin.

Just like that, Kara was _ka-tet_.


	3. Todash and Dinner

A/N Sorry about the slow updates. Between work, medical problems, and three other stories that want to be written, this one's gonna be slow. I'll update as fast as I can, I promise, though I won't make any promises as to how fast that'll be.

Also, thanks to my reviewers. You've given me the inspiration to continue! Now, on to the story.

Kara couldn't sleep. She was a city girl, had never slept outside, and found the ground too uncomfortable, even with the bedroll Susannah had given her. So, she was sitting by the fire, cleaning her new guns like Roland had shown her. She really didn't need to, but it was something to do with her hands while she thought, and the rhythm of the motions was soothing.

It was quiet here. Only now did Kara understand how noisy New York really was. Cars, construction, radios, and people shouting and arguing. None of that here. Here it was wind through the trees, crickets, fire crackling, the breathing of her _ka-tet_. It was so different here, but it was right. This was where she was meant to be.

Kara heard movement, glanced over to see Roland shift. She paused in her work, watched as he changed positions a few times. She went back to the guns when he left the bedroll, remained silent when he sat next to her. After a moment, he spoke.

"You move around them with confidence. You learn quickly."

"I've always been a quick study."

Roland watched her put the pistols together and load them. As he did, he found something else beautiful about her; her motions were fluid and graceful.

"This man you spoke of, the one who wrote our story. Did he write of you, as well?"

"I don't know. I left before I got to this part in the book."

"Do you have this book with you?" Roland asked, rolling a cigarette. His hands were steady, but there was a slight tremor in his voice. Kara understood; books were rare in Mid-World.

"D'ye ken decoy?"

Roland lit the cigarette and took a drag off it. "Aye," he sighed, nodding sadly.

"I didn't know if it would work and, as it turned out, it didn't. But…" Kara shrugged.

"But, that was the only thing that might."

"You speak true and thankee-sai."

"Can you not sleep?"

"We city folken don't sleep on the ground."

Roland nodded and dug out a bullet. He sent it spinning and tumbling over the fingers of his whole left hand.

Kara smiled wryly. "Will it work, though I know what you're doing?"

Roland smiled. "If you do not fight it, yes."

"Then I won't. Thankee, Roland."

"Welcome."

Kara's eyes dropped to the bullet. Roland began to speak and she listened, enjoying the sound of his voice and the rhythm of his words, finding both comforting. When sleep began to take her she went willingly, knowing Roland would let no harm come to her.

When Kara was asleep, Roland put the bullet away, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroll. Carefully he lay her down, making sure she was comfortable. Once she was settled, he returned to the fire to brood with his cigarettes, and the pain in his hip.

They traveled for a long while together, though none of them truly knew for how long. Days? Weeks? Months? There was no way to tell. Time was at once normal, then, later, flew by in quick bursts. Time was a face on the water, the books had said, and Kara found that to be true.

But, the time was good. Kara learned alongside Jake the ways of the gunslinger, taking to this as quickly as she had learned to clean her guns. Roland was pleased with them both, showing it with quick smiles and a nod of the head. Kara also learned to sleep on the ground, and, after a time, didn't need Roland's bullet-trick to get to sleep, and stayed asleep the whole night.

Until the night Eddie and Jake went todash.

This happened a night or two after a group of men had started following them. Roland sensed no danger from them, nor did anyone else in his _ka-tet_, but all wondered when the others would approach them, and what they would ask.

The night Eddie and Jake went todash, it was Roland who woke her up. Not by any sound—he moved in perfect silence—but by thought. Something in his troubled mind leaked out and Kara heard it. She lifted her head and saw a number of things. Jake and Eddie were flickering, almost like a strobe light, though, when they were gone, there was an image of their bodies, like a shadow, almost, as if something were keeping their place here.

The next thing Kara saw was Roland, leaving camp. He moved silently but with a purpose, as if he were following something. Kara wondered what, until she saw that Susannah was gone. Kara got up and, moving just as quietly as Roland, followed. He turned, saw her coming, and paused, letting her join him. In silence, they continued.

Susannah led them through the trees, to where they ended, then farther until they reached the swamp. Her wheelchair sunk into the wet ground, but she stopped it long before it got stuck, removing her clothes and slithering to the ground. She slipped naked into the water and started swimming, eventually coming out on the other side, talking as she moved, and Kara learned that this personality called herself Mia. Mia ate, fish, frogs, whatever she could get her hands on.

After a while, Mia rolled back into the water with a splash and began cleaning herself. Kara knew that the feast was over and followed Roland back, helping him erase any trace of their passage. Once back at camp, they found Eddie and Jake back and solid, returned from todash (though, Kara wouldn't know that word until the next day). Kara and Roland lay down, feigning sleep as Mia returned and lay down herself. Once she was deep in slumber, Kara and Roland lifted their heads to look at each other. They didn't speak, but, they didn't need to.

Kara gave him a look that asked, _Will you tell them?_

Roland's answering look said it all too clearly. _When I have to, and not before. It must hold until this is over._

This look Kara shot at Roland, eyes flashing angrily. _It must, but it won't, and you know it as well as I. Keep this too long, and we will no longer be _ka-tet. She lay her head down, turned her back to him, and went back to sleep.

Roland heaved a sigh and lay down, himself. He knew it, aye, but he would still hope. Trouble was coming, and they didn't need this on top of it.


End file.
